


A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

by EAbbene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-05 10:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAbbene/pseuds/EAbbene
Summary: In the fairy-stories when a witch comes to a wizard wtih a request, she always offers something of value in return- a gold cauldron that brews perfect potions every time, ten league boots, a lamp with a genie that grants three wishes.  Pansy was fresh out of genies. Coming to Longbottom was a mistake.With the war raging at Hogwarts, the headgirl has to do something to protect the innocent children in her house.  Draco's always told her she had a bleeding heart.  But surely Longbottom isn't serious about what he wants from her.  She might not be brave enough to protect them herself, but who will protect her from Longbottom?  And does she want that protection?





	1. The Desperate Witch and the Unscrupulous Wizard

A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement  
A Neville/Pansy Collection Piece  
E. Abbene

Pansy Parkinson winced as she dabbed dittany on the cut. It made her stomach hurt to see her own housemates being treated this way. If the Carrows thought the Slytherins were okay with this, they had another think coming. However, she didn’t really see herself standing up to Carrow after watching him torture Longbottom last week. Longbottom was willing to stand up for his housemates, and the rest of the school too. Somehow the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff first through third years were avoiding the worst of this awful mess. Pansy knew the standing leader of the DA was behind it. She’d heard whispers of polyjuice, protection spells, students being smuggled out of the Carrows holding cells with their records. Maybe he could help the few Slytherin half-bloods that were having such a rough year. Surely it would appeal to his sense of human decency, if not his Gryffindor ego. The first year moaned, her eyes opening slowly. 

“Shhh,” whispered Pansy. “I distracted the Professors with an unofficial excuse. They’ll have forgotten you by the time they get back from their false errand to the gates. You took a nasty bump to your head.”

“You’re in my house. Pansy Parkinson.” the small slytherin girl said with a smile. 

“That’s right. And you’d be best to learn to keep your head down and out of the Carrows’ way if you want to keep that pretty face of yours.”

“They said it’s because my gran’s a mudblood.”

“Yes, yes… well, just tell them next time that they have the wrong student. Sit in the back of class with your head down. If you let them forget about you, soon enough they will be distracted with something else. You need to start talking up that your Uncle is the ex-minister and sits on the Wizegamot.”

“But, Uncle doesn’t talk to mum since she married Papa.”

“They don’t know that, dearie. And we know that has more to do with your father’s politics than anything else,” smirked Pansy, fixing the first year’s pale braids. “Hold your head high, and give them your mother’s lineage when they ask your name. No sense in bandying about that your father’s father rejected his pureblooded lineage and married a muggleborn.”

“But… but everyone knows I’m a Robards.”

“The Carrows are too stupid to remember anything. Just tell them you’re a Fudge.”

Pansy and little Jessica Robards hurried back to the slytherin common room, arriving just before the recently physically enforced curfew. The number of students who had been tortured for simply being out past curfew was astounding. Pansy’s shrewd violet eyes watched the little blonde retreat to the back corner of the common room, farthest from the fire where a small collection of muggleborns and halfbloods tended to gather. Safety in numbers, even in the den of snakes. 

Pansy flicked her eyes to the fireplace where Crabbe and Goyle sat with their group of followers. They had taken up the mantel of sons of death eaters and owned it. Whether their following had been attracted to their ideals or their protection was yet to be determined, but several of the younger years took them as the true leaders of the house, despite the majority of the seventh years silently opposing. 

Pansy took her place in the middle of the common room, with Daph and Theo, Blaise and Tracy. They were pairs, similar to Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy had been part of a pair once, but now Draco rarely appeared in the common room, preferring to spend time in his private head’s dorm. She and Draco had been best friends since childhood, but the war had changed him. The war had changed everyone. 

She pulled a parchment from her bag and began proofing an essay for Slughorn. Potions was easily one of her best classes, and while she proofed, she was able to monitor the various groups throughout the room. The common room was as divided as the outside world, constantly perched on the brink of open war. She grimaced as Goyle demonstrated the torture curse on a poor hufflepuff’s familiar. If the black and yellow collar was anything to go by. Several of the crueler students gathered by the fireplace laughed at the screech of that poor cat. 

“That’s enough,” snapped Pansy getting to her feet. “Ten points from slytherin for disturbing the peace of the common room.”

“You’re no fun anymore, Parkinson,” snapped Crabbe, his looming frame making her seem more diminutive than her somewhat impressive five eight. She was incredibly slight though, despite her long legs, and his bulk was intimidating. She fingered the elm wand in her pocket, wondering if she should brandish it against the bigger boy. 

“It comes with the job, Vincent,” she deliberately used his first name. 

“You’re practically a blood traitor yourself. Can’t figure why Snape picked a bleeding heart like you for headgirl. Your parents aren’t even supporters of the cause.”

“It probably had something to do with the fact that they needed a headgirl and although you have the right bits, you don’t dress much like one.” She smirked with a gesture at his enlarged chest region, which did sport a rather prominent set of man-boobs. “Besides, my grades are better.” She casually inspected her nails as she tried to hide her racing heart and sweaty palms. What was she doing picking a fight with Crabbe and Goyle with all these witnesses. She watched the sneer on Rowle’s face over Vincent’s shoulder. While she could probably handle Crabbe and Goyle, she didn’t see herself being able to take on the sixth year too. And he’d had a special leer for her since they had arrived in September. He made her skin crawl. 

“Don’t know why you’re acting so high and mighty. Draco isn’t here to protect you, little witch,” laughed Goyle, stepping up and lofting his wand. Fuck… she didn’t need this. What had she been thinking?

“Automatic fifty points if either of you attempts to use magic on the headgirl for enforcing the rules, double if you both decide it’s worth it,” came a cool drawl from the back of the room. Where had Draco come from? She felt a stab of relief, but also the hot wave of embarrassment that she’d needed him to save her. 

“Good thing your cousin showed up to save your hide, Parkinson,” hissed Crabbe as Draco crossed the common room. 

“Your mother is your father’s cousin,” she spat back, watching as confusion crossed his face, not fully understanding the insult. She tilted her head in question as Draco breezed past her toward the exit. She hurriedly grabbed her bag and scurried after him like the coward she was. She didn’t plan to stick around the common room after that confrontation. Nearing the door, she bent quickly and scooped the small white cat huddled behind a plant and hurried into the passage.

“I can fend for myself you know,” she snapped at Draco’s back. “I don’t need you to fight all my battles for me.”

“Sure doesn’t look like it,” he drawled without looking back at her. “I’m sure you had everything completely under control,” he added with heavy sarcasm.

“I did! Crabbe and Goyle are stupid oafs and you know it. They were torturing this poor familiar,” she protested, cradling the still trembling cat to her undersized chest. “It’s okay kitty, I’ve got you now. You’re safe.”

“You’re such a bleeding heart. Crabbe’s right. You’re going to have to put on a mask of indifference if you want to make it through this.”

“What, like you have?” she demanded, storming down the corridor to catch up with him. 

“I’m just trying to survive this blood war,” he cursed. “You have no idea what he’s like. No idea. You think Crabbe, and Goyle, or the fucking Carrows are the worst of it. They’re just the beginning. And while you might not need to worry about them, Rowle has an eye on you. I know you think you’re still a scrawny little pug faced thing, but no one’s thought that in years. If war progresses in the Dark Lord’s favor, his father is high in the inner circle. The first thing he’ll ask his father for is you.”

“Stop being gross!” shrieked Pansy. “I can’t even. Uggh… I’m off to Hufflepuff. Snowdrop here must miss her momma.”

“Please tell me that’s not the cat’s name,” Draco rolled his eyes. 

“What… I didn’t name her,” protested Pansy. “Besides, look at this little face.”

“Thank Merlin I dropped Care of Magical Creatures. They make you insufferable.”

“Sod off Draco,” she said good naturedly as she split from him and hurried off to the Hufflepuff common room. 

***********************

She had returned the pretty white cat to her very grateful owner who promised to be more diligent in keeping her in the dorms from now on. Pansy had a feeling the poor cat wouldn’t be up to venturing out anytime soon. The poor thing was clearly traumatized despite the calming cheering charms she had used on it to stop the trembling.

She was distracted by thoughts of her yet unwritten charms essay due in two days, and nearly missed three gryffindors out past curfew. Longbottom, Weaslette, and a small second year with bloody rivets crossing his arms and his robes practically slashed to pieces. 

“Stop right there,” she demanded, her wand in her hand where it had been since Draco had advised her to watch her back with Rowle. The thought had kept her nerves on end this entire walk. 

“Parkinson,” spat Weaslette with a sound of frustration. “Of bloody course.”

“Five points off Gryffindor for swearing in front of a younger year. And… come here,” she ordered the small second year. Riffling through her bag, she heard rather than saw Longbottom and Weasley shifting on their feet uneasily. The second year stepped forward slowly, painfully. She pulled out her embroidered handkerchief, the merry boarder of pansies a lovely reminder of her grandmother. Unstopping the unlabeled bottle, she doused the fabric with the contents before unclasping the tattered robes from the small Gryffindor boy. Dabbing the wet cloth to his face and arms she tutted softly.  
“Best keep your head down. You got someone very worked up at you, but I see you’re trying to be brave. Must hurt quite a bit. I won’t tell anyone if you cry,” she cooed. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” said the boy, tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Surely not. But, head down next time. No sense aggravating anyone. Especially Professor Carrow. This looks like her work,” Pansy dabbed at the last of the marks on the boys arms, stood and unabashedly pulled the collar of his shirt back to see the slashes continued onto his pale back. Those looked even deeper. She shot a glare at Longbottom and Weasley for being so inconsiderate as to skip any sort of healing. A tap of her wand had his shirt vanished to the laundry, and she quickly ran the cloth over his battered back, several of the welts having broken open. Muggle torture. Bloody bastards. 

By the time she was done, the poor boy was openly sobbing into her shoulder as she finished with the open wounds on his back. “Such a good patient,” she crooned, producing a Hollyhead Harpies jumper from her bag. It would be big on the boy, and was probably not the right team, but the castle in November wasn’t exactly warm. She ran her palm over his forehead, pushing back the auburn locks. He didn’t feel feverish. “Much better,” she slipped the too large jumper over his head, rolling the sleeves at the wrist to fit his much smaller frame. She finally looked at the sixth and seventh year remaining in the corridor. Looking at Longbottom in his psudo-relaxed pose, arms casually crossed over his chest, but his right hand inches from his wand handle protruding from his left robe pocket gave her an idea. He had an air of authority about him this year, and oddly enough, every NEWT class they had together proved he was far from the incompetent first year he had once been. Everyone knew he was in charge of the not-so-secret Dumbledore’s Army. Him, Lovegood, and Weaslette were the ringleaders, somehow leading the younger years. Protecting them, training them in actual defense against the dark arts, keeping ‘the cause’ alive. He was their primary leader though, he was the head of it all. And she had him alone for once. 

“Weasley, get him back to his common room. And yourself as well. If you spot Filch, give him this pass stating you were returning him from the hospital wing. It isn’t dated,” she handed a pass with Snape’s signature on it stating that the holder of the pass had been assigned to assist an injured student back to the house dormitories. It was deliberately vague, and Pansy had wondered at her luck when Snape had agreed to sign it for her. She leaned down to pick up her bag. “Longbottom, I didn’t say you.” She watched the tall dark haired boy pause mid-turn. “The pass was for one, and I wanted to speak with you privately.”

Weasley looked back at the tall dark haired wizard who nodded her and the younger boy along. They hurried off into the darkness of the corridors. Longbottom turned to look down at her, a patronizing smirk on his face. It wasn’t hard, she thought, to tell he had some Black in his recent genealogy. He looked just like Draco with that bemused smirk. 

“I’d just as soon get back to the common room, Parkinson,” he finally drawled when the footsteps had finally faded completely into the distance. He looked at her with those brilliant blue eyes. The color of the Mediterranean, they were mesmerizing. “What did you want?”

“I had a proposition for you,” she answered, stepping toward an empty classroom and testing the door. No sense in having this discussion in the hallway, especially since her only remaining pass was one stating she was escorting a student to the Headmaster’s office. Not exactly believable at nearly one in the morning. “We can discuss it in here.” She stepped into the empty arithmancy classroom. 

“Like I said, I don’t have all night. What did you want?”

“I need your help with the slytherin half-bloods,” she sighed. “And before you ask, yes, we have them, quite a few actually. And our house is as divided as this school, but from within. And they don’t have the safety of a common room away from the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, or a hoard of housemates to stand up for them. 

“You could stand up for them. You’re bloody headgirl, Parkinson.”

“I’m not the headgirl Granger would have been. Let’s be honest for a change. And I might be able to stand up to Crabbe and Goyle in a fair fight, but we both know those are a thing of the past. Besides, if I go against them, nearly a third of my house will be against me.”

“Too afraid to stand up for what’s right. You always were a pansy, only talking big when Malfoy was around to back you up.”

“I’m not afraid to admit that I tend to put self preservation above bravery. We can’t all be gryffindors.”

“So basically, you want DA privileges extended to the Slytherin Half-bloods,” he asked, his blue eyes intense in the dim wandlight. 

“Yes,” she nodded. 

“And why would I do that?” he asked, his eyebrow quirked with dark humor. 

“Out of the goodness of your bleeding Gryffindor heart,” she gritted out between her teeth. 

“I don’t think this sounds like a very good deal on my end,” he said with all the confidence he had used to build the DA back up this year and stand up to their professors. He leaned back against a desk, crossing his long legs as well as those muscled arms. What did he do to get muscles? He didn’t play quidditch. “Surely you know that when a witch comes to the wizard with a deal in the stories, she always offers something of value in return. A gold cauldron that brews perfect potions every time, ten league boots, a lamp with a genie in it that will grant three wishes.” He ticked off ideas on his long fingers. 

“I’m fresh out of genies,” she snapped. She was certain Longbottom would have been all for this. 

“Too bad,” Longbottom hefted a fake sigh and turned as if to go. 

“What do you want!?” she blurted out desperately.

“Ah, there’s that slytherin side of you we all know and love,” smirked Longbottom, his deep voice working around a chuckle. “You’ve already said you’re not willing to sacrifice yourself to protect your housemates.”

“Seriously Longbottom, what do you need? I have funds. My parents are very generous with my allowance. Surely, money would help your… cause.” She dug into her bag, pulling out a bag of galleons she’d stashed there for the next Hogsmead trip. 

“A Longbottom, coming to a Parkinson for funds?” Longbottom laughed outright this time. “Surely you know better.” That’s right… the Longbottoms had been in England longer than the Malfoys. Their Manor house was bigger than Malfoys, and their pockets were just as deep. The Parkinsons weren’t hurting for money, but they had come over with William the Conqueror like the Malfoys had. And they weren’t nearly as well off. The Longbottoms were like the rich version of the Weasleys. Anglo-Saxon to the core. Surely there was a Longbottom at Hogwarts all the way back in the founders era. 

“Fine. What will it take. I’ll do anything,” she said, thinking of Robard’s face this afternoon. 

“Anything could be quite a lot, Parkinson,” he said, stepping forward and looming over her. When had he gotten so damn tall? 

“Name your price,” she challenged. His eyebrows raised and a slow smile spread across his handsome features. She wasn’t sure when he had turned into the best looking bloke in their year, but she was completely unwilling to admit it to his face, even under torture.

“You,” he grinned, his hand coming up and trailing a finger down her cheek. 

She took a step back to find herself cornered against a desk. “What do you mean?” she asked nervously, thinking that surely this was some sort of prank where he had somehow found out about her very secret crush on him, and planned to exploit her for it. 

“I mean you, naked and mine in your bed every night in exchange for protection of first through third year Slytherins from the Carrows and your housemates,” his eyes heated as he said this, making her blush all over. 

“Stop joking, this is serious,” she scolded him, standing up straighter.

“But I am being serious. You wanted a price. I named it,” he stated firmly. “Luna and I broke it off over the summer because she’s on girls now, apparently. You’re the fittest girl in school, and we both know that Draco’s your cousin on the Malfoy side, and Theo’s dating Daphne. Therefore, I know you’re single. You have a private dorm as headgirl, and I need a place to sleep that doesn’t involve Brown and Finnegan going at it.”

“What if I was dating Blaise? Theo and Draco aren’t the only eligible Slytherin wizards in our year.”

“Since Blaise is as bent as a broken broomstick, I’d say it’s a safe bet you aren’t seeing him.” Neville smirked. Pansy rolled her eyes. 

“Say I agree to this, we need more defined terms,” she cajoled. Longbottom was fit as hell but that didn’t mean she was going to trade her virginity to him for the protection of her housemates without some negotiation. 

“Alright, how’s this for ‘defined terms,’” he drawled, sounding like Draco. “In exchange for participation in all DA defense classes, sanctuary in the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms, no questions asked, and rescue from overnight detentions, you will give me the password to your headgirl dorm, as well as complete access to your body from midnight to sunrise every night until the deal terminates or we graduate.”

“So basically, I become your… mistress… in exchange for protection of my housemates.”

“First through third years, older years are on their own.”

“First through fourth years,” she countered.

“Done.”

“And nobody knows. It’s our secret,” she added.

“That’s fair enough,” he nodded, holding out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Pansy turned and looked out the window at the stars lighting the night sky. She bit her lip, watching the ripples on the lake. Nodding she reached out and shook his hand, the brilliant yellow flash of a wizard’s deal momentarily blinding her as his warm hand encompassed hers. Fuck, she hadn’t realized how serious he was to make it a wizards deal. There would be no backing out now. 

“I’ll…. I’ll show you to my quarters…” she mumbled, hefting her bag on her shoulder and heading to the door.

“I know where they are, Parkinson,” he said. “I have a few things to do first. I’ll be along eventually. Just the password is fine.”

Pansy blushed, wishing she had somehow anticipated this moment, but she had never been one for divination. The password was meant to be completely private, and she hadn’t anticipated sharing it. “Alecto chokes on Amycus’s cock.”

Longbottom burst into laughter at that. “Not such a perfect slytherin princess are we,” he joked, tweaking her nose. 

“See you…. Later,” she mumbled, hurrying off into the dark corridor. What had she just done. What mental ailment could have possibly overcome her to make such an agreement. 

Whispering the password to the bare stone wall that hid the entrance to the headgirl’s dormitory, she slipped into the door that appeared, closing it firmly behind her. She should have just told him it was Slytherins Rule or something ridiculous and then changed it before he got here. 

Dashing across the small parlor, she made her way to the bathroom. If Longbottom was going to see her naked bits, she’d feel more confident if she’d shaved her legs and washed her hair which had been in a tight bun all day. 

He still hadn’t arrived by the time she finished her absolutions, so she threw on her Harpies nightgown, and went to bed. She could pretend to be asleep.

But, anticipating every creak of the old castle was his arrival, she tossed and turned for hours, anxious that he was coming, afraid of the horrific deal she had made with a devil Gryffindor. She finally fell asleep around five am, the soft chimes of the clocktower the last thing she remembered hearing. 

Waking at half nine, she panicked. She’d overslept. And then her deal with Longbottom came back to her and her eyes danced across the room, finding herself alone. She’d dreamt the whole thing. What nonsense… except, she had shaved her legs, and the bags under her eyes proved she’d had a very sleepless night. Spelling her unruly curls into a quick braid, she tossed on her uniform, grabbed her bag and dashed for her first class, all the way out at the greenhouses. 

************************************

Longbottom was there, sitting in the front, his plant for today’s class already resting on his potting bench, his books on the table next to it. He looked well rested, his dark brown hair shiny and perfect, his uniform neatly starched. She glared at him.

“Rough night, Parkinson?” he goaded. 

“I proofed my potions essay. Believe it or not, some of us still take that class,” she sniped. 

“Maybe you should ask Slughorn to teach you to brew a beauty potion,” he suggested, generating a laugh from Finnegan and Brown next to him. She hadn’t had time for makeup this morning, or a fresh uniform, simply grabbing the one she had left last night in the bathroom. She was glad the only other slytherins taking this class were Tracey and Daphne in the back. 

“Is that what you did?” she asked provocatively giving him a long once over. “Because something went horribly wrong.” It was Longbottom’s turn to blush as Finnegan burst out in loud gawfs. She stalked to the back of the classroom, summoned her plant, and plopped down next to Daphne and Tracey.

“Finally making a move on Longbottom?” smirked Daphne.

“I told you I’m not interested in Gryffindorks with more bravery than brains.”

“But you admit that he’s very goodlooking,” continued Daphne quietly as Sprout called the class to order.

“If you like that sort of thing, which I don’t!”

“Tall, dark, handsome, good teeth, what’s not to like?” asked Daphne.

“I can’t have this conversation today!” protested Pansy. 

“But we have this conversation every time you work up the nerve to speak to Longbottom,” protested Tracy. 

“Yes, let us have our fun,” agreed Daphne out of the corner of her mouth as she pretended to bend and pick up a dropped quill. “It’s so much fun to see your face when we discuss if he’s as long as his name implies.”

“Bugger off…” she groaned. “He’s the one who talked to me!”

“Yes, maybe he’s caught on that you’ve fancied the pants off him since fourth year.”

“We all know he wasn’t fit until sixth year,” protested Pansy.

“So you admit he’s fit,” Tracy grinned in victory.

“All the more reason to question your sanity, since you’ve most definitely fancied him since fourth year,” pointed out Daphne. 

“Well I don’t, certainly not now. He’s a dreadful arse, and I take back anything good I ever said about him.”

“Ladies, I know you seem to find my class an excuse to have a gossip, but would you mind sharing whatever is so amusing to the rest of the class? We feel left out,” interrupted Professor Sprout.

“My apologies, professor. I overslept and missed breakfast. They were filling me in on a minor drama,” answered Pansy.

“Ten points from Slytherin Miss Parkinson. And you shouldn’t be skipping meals. You’re too thin as it is,” Sprout reprimanded her. Pansy rolled her eyes, but she was hungry. If she didn’t know that the apples growing on the trees in the back of greenhouse seven had been infused with a sleeping drought, she might have snitched one for later, to tide her over until lunch. 

The rest of the day was a blur, between dark arts being exhausting, and double potions after lunch, she was ready for bed by the time she made it back to the common room with her finished charms essay. She and Theo could trade essays and proof each others. 

The common room was quieter than usual when she arrived, she noticed Goyle, Crabbe, and their usual cronies milling about the fireplace, while Theo, Daphne, Tracy, and Millie were sitting in their usual place by the window to the lake. A glance at the half-blood section proved the source of the quiet. They were all missing. In a panic, she rushed to Daphne.

“Where are they?” she asked in a hushed whisper, covering her voice with the rustling of papers and textbooks as she laid out her things with less care than usual.

“Tracy saw one of them speaking with Longbottom after lunch. None of them showed up after dinner, and the group that huddles in the library told Astoria that they were invited to the other houses  
common rooms. They’ll be back for curfew.”

“Did tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb say anything?” asked Pansy nervously.

“No, they’ve been preoccupied with the new spell they taught in Dark Arts today. Neither of them were clever enough to pick it up during class, but they seem rather determined.”

“Merlin help us all,” sighed Pansy glancing to see Crabbe and Goyle were indeed pouring over an open text. Of all the times for them to finally show an interest in academics. 

“Yeah, I didn’t even know they could read,” put in Blaise. 

“Wonder what made Longbottom take notice of our little band of halfbloods,” pondered Tracy. “He certainly didn’t offer me protection.”

“You don’t exactly need it,” Blaise pointed out.

“Either way, it’s nice. We won’t have to stick our necks out so much for them. I thought Crabbe was going to strangle you with his bare hands yesterday, Pans. I’m glad Draco stepped in when he did. I don’t think Theo and my plan to accidentally light his trousers on fire would have been as successful.” commented Daphne with a shrug. Pansy pretended to read Theo’s charms essay and nodded. 

At curfew, Pansy hurried out the door as a long line of students arrived back at the common room, the missing halfbloods who filed right up to the dormitory together. Always together. She noted all the clean, brighter than usual faces on the younger years, pleased to see her plan to protect them might be working. 

She hurried to the dorm, exhausted from the long day on such little rest. She practically fell into bed, asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. 

“Parkinson,” a deep voice woke her from her dreamless sleep. She blinked owlishly into the deep blue eyes of Longbottom. He was actually here. Her heart skipped a beat and transitioned into rapid mode. 

“I wanted to let you know I was here. I put my stuff in the loo, and my trunk is at the end of the bed. Don’t trip over it.”

“I…” she opened her mouth like a fish, he was in her bed, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She must have been sleeping like the dead not to hear him until he shook her awake. 

“I’m exhausted. Go back to sleep. I didn’t want to scare you when you woke up to my ugly mug.”

“I…” she started again.

“Don’t think too hard, it gives you wrinkles,” he said flipping out the light with his wand. “And I thought we agreed you were going to be naked.”

“I…” she was only speechless because he had woken her from such a sound sleep.

“That’s fine, tomorrow’s another night,” he conceded, flipping on his side and wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to him. He was warm, and despite her anxiety at him being here, she felt her muscles relax. “Goodnight.” His words were hot on her neck and she wondered how she would fall back asleep, but she did, nearly immediately. 

***********************************************************

He snored.

His hand was curled over her breast, his leg pinning her to the bed, and he was snoring. Not loud, but it wasn’t a politely silent breathing. Glancing at the clock, it was only seven. Plenty of time for breakfast. She could wash her hair before classes. She attempted to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Mmm,” he grunted, causing her to still her movements. “I don’t think the sun’s up. You’re still mine,” he muttered, his hand on his breast tightening it’s grip, his thumb caressing her nipple through the fabric of her Harpies nightgown. 

“I…”

“This again,” he gave a soft laugh pressing his lips to her neck. She stiffened. He’d been serious. He… expected… Even her mind was failing her. “At least let me shut you up proper,” he turned her in his arms, initiating a kiss that had her curling her toes. His stubble grazed against her chin, but his lips were soft, his tongue sliding along the seam of her lips before his teeth nibbled at her lower lip playfully. He shouldn’t taste this delicious first thing in the morning. His hands had slipped under her nightgown and began teasing her nipples into taunt points, causing her to moan and open her mouth to him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across hers, before pulling her lip into his mouth to suck on it. He was good at this. She wondered if he’d learned this from Lovegood. That would be fitting.

He broke the kiss, his mouth finding her breast as he pulled her green gown over her head. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed by her small breasts, and he certainly didn’t seem to mind. He worked kisses up her neck and back to her mouth, his hardness pressed to her below the sheets. His hand was sliding down her side, causing her back to arch inadvertently, and into her green cotton and lace knickers when he cursed. Her eyes flew open, looking at him in alarm, as his fingers ghosted over her soaked core and retreated. 

“The sunrise,” he stated, looking out the window as the sun’s first rays crossed the horizon. 

Frustration and relief fell over Pansy as well as a good deal of embarrassment. Their deal was that she was his between midnight and sunrise. If the sun was up, the deal was off. He was off of her in seconds, springing out of bed with all the morning agility of a lion. She glanced at his tented pajama pants, and back to his face which was still watching her intently. She quickly drew the covers up to her chin. 

“Nothing I hadn’t already seen,” he taunted, stepping to the end of the bed and opening his trunk. “I’ll look forward to continuing where we left off,” he said, bringing his hand to his mouth and drawing his tongue over the tips of his fingers. She felt herself flush to the roots of her dark hair as she watched him lick the moisture off his fingers. “Tonight,” he said with a wolfish grin before pulling some clothes from his trunk and retreating to the bathroom. Pansy fell back against the pillows in mortification and confusion. What the hell, Longbottom? What the hell?


	2. All Magic Comes with a Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonardo's first law of magical essence states that all magic comes with a price. Pansy just wasn't sure if the price of this particular magic was going to be her heart.

Pansy went through her day in a daze, Daphne even commenting that she didn’t seem her usual witty self. By the time she made it through muggle studies, she was a nervous wreck. She avoided eye contact with Longbottom, hurrying past him on her way to dinner, and then holing up in the Slytherin Common room all evening, even though she didn’t have any homework and it was a Friday. 

She dragged her feet to her dormitory, wondering if the anticipation of tonight was making it better or worse. She’d relived Longbottom sucking her off his fingers a million times in head throughout the day. At one point, Draco had asked if she was feeling well in charms, and rudely informed her she looked sunburnt or feverish.

She showered, dried her hair, allowing it to remain in its natural curls for once instead of straightening it like she usually did. She debated crawling into bed without a gown, but considering she was still naked _under her clothes,_ she decided she was still technically naked. Ha. Take that Longbottom. 

She turned on the bedside lamp and summoned her charms text. She liked to keep a few chapters ahead of the class. She was propped up and reading when Longbottom slipped into the room. She hadn’t heard him enter the common room, and his hair was damp, so he must have showered somewhere else. It had a classic wave to it, the dark brown locks floating over his forehead, adding to his already substantial height. 

“I thought I told you to be naked?” he accused, his hands going to the buttons at his collar and loosening his tie. He must have put his uniform back on after showering. He slipped his sweater over his head, and she watched mesmerized for a minute as he continued with the buttons at his cuffs. 

“I am… _under_ my clothes,” she finally answered with a satisfied grin, turning a page in her textbook. 

“I don’t think you understand the meaning of that word,” he laughed with a shake of his head, unbuttoning the long line of buttons down the front of his oxford before pulling his arms out of the shirt. 

“I was cold,” she protested. His belt slid from the loops, and he draped it across the top of his trunk.

“Are you a witch or not?” he asked, lofting his wand and performing a warming charm before shucking his trousers. He was clearly not embarrassed in front of her as he wasn’t wearing anything beneath the black pressed plants. He hung them over the back of her vanity chair. 

“I’m… oh wow…fuck me…” she muttered, as he took her book from her loose grasp and set it aside. 

“That’s the plan, later, now up. I told my mistress she had better be naked in her bed from midnight to sunrise, and you’re not holding up your end of the deal.”

“Merlin’s balls,” she squealed as he pulled her from the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold floor as he pulled the green gown over her head and tossed it carelessly on the floor. He’d folded his things, she scowled at him, trying to ignore the sensations of his warm hands running from her bum to her neck as he pulled her close for a kiss. He was the perfect height for kissing. Not that she’d had the most experience with kisses. Roger Davies fourth year, a much too short George Weasley fifth year, Miles sixth. Longbottom’s kiss left them all at the starting line. 

“Much better,” he said, his large hands covering her breasts. “Since tomorrow’s Saturday, and you’ll have plenty of time to recover, I plan to enjoy you all night,” he said. “And first, I’d like to have you on your knees.”

She blushed. He was all business, so… demanding. Certainly, she knew he had these qualities, but… She hadn’t realized he was so in-charge all the time. Where was the bumbling first year who needed a remembrall to keep his schedule straight? Merlin, she could do this… pretend she was some sort of… sex kitten mistress. When he kissed her, she could forget this was all part of a deal. Not some fantasy of her brain’s making resulting from her longstanding crush. 

She turned and started to crawl onto the bed, her mind wondering if this was worth the two dozen first through fourth years. 

“No,” he demanded, taking her by the shoulders and turning her, pressing her to her knees. 

“I… I… don’t…”

“Bletchey bragged for ages that he’d fucked that pretty mouth red mouth of yours. Now let’s see if he was telling the truth,” he said, his hand in her hair, caressing her neck, a finger swirling the curve of her ear. His thumb pressed the seam of her lips, and she licked it delicately before he slid his fingers along the curve of her cheekbone. Looking at him straight on was intimidating. He was… huge, and hard, and… Salzar… she _had_ sucked off Miles in a broomcloset as stress relief for him during his NEWTs. But he’d been _much_ smaller, and much less… naked… just peeping through the gap between his lowered trousers and the tails of his oxford. It had been a lot darker with a lot less _balls_. What was she supposed to do with them anyways? Miles had come in approximately 0.2 seconds, and the whole thing had seemed rather a disaster to Pansy. He’d _bragged_ about it? Why hadn’t Draco told her? And if not him, surely Blaise would have rubbed it in.

Pansy licked her lips and was surprised to hear a groan from above. Looking up, Longbottom’s eyes were focused on her, the blue raging with an intensity that made her shiver. Bracing herself, she lowered her lips, her tongue dragging along the lower ridge as she took him into her mouth. Too far… she gagged, pulling back, letting her tongue swipe over the head as if the whole thing had been intentional. He must have enjoyed it because he moaned, bending to take her hand from his thigh to wrap it around the base. She gave a tentative squeeze, and he made that sound of pleasure in the back of his throat again. She attempted to lower her lips over him again, meeting her hand preventing her gag reflex from activating. She hallowed out her cheeks and sucked as she pulled away like she’d read in a witch weekly article and was rewarded with tug on her hair before his hand gently pressed her back down his rigid cock. “So good,” he moaned. She tried to remember what else she read in witch weekly, but she could only think that Daphne said Theo’s balls were ‘particularly sensitive.’ She used her other hand to gently run her fingernails over the tight skin there. “Fuck!” exclaimed Longbottom as his hand dug into her hair again, guiding her up and down movements on his cock to be faster. A salty rush came quickly into her mouth, the only warning a slight tightening in his balls just a second before. Pansy pulled off, wincing at the briny taste. It had an almost woody flavor, like salty tea. 

She was being lifted by the arms and tossed on the bed, almost immediately after pulling off. “That was brilliant,” he murmured into her neck. “Definitely took the edge off for what I have planned.”

Miles had slumped against the wall and told her she needed to walk back to the common room alone because his legs were jelly. Longbottom seemed energized as he kissed her neck and down to her breasts. Her back arched as his hands trailed along her sides to her bum, pushing herself further into his mouth. She was completely open to him as he wrapped her legs around his waist. His left hand kept a steady rhythm running up along the underside of her thigh from knee to bum, while the other couldn’t seem to settle on a particular area, focusing on her breast, then side, then back up to trace along her collarbone. 

She wanted to press her legs firmly together, but she couldn’t, his hips keeping hers spread. She arched again to find some friction. She used her arms to pull him against her. His hand met her, sliding through her folds, finding exactly what she needed. She let out a little moan, her head thrown back against the sheets, her eyes closed. His fingers stilled and she heard him let out a breathy laugh. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see he had abandoned her breast and was looking down at her quite intimately. She wanted to pull away but he looked back up, a mischievous light in his eyes. 

“Circe, you’re more beautiful than I ever dreamed,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her stunned mouth before dipping his head back to her breast, the roughness of his tongue causing a myriad of sensations as he dragged it downwards and restarted the movements of his thumbs, caressing her exactly like she wanted him to. Her head threw back again as he pressed harder, a noise escaping the back of her throat. She moved against him, trying to increase the pressure again, but he pulled back. 

She whimpered in dismay, as she felt him pull away, going up on his forarms. She looked down to see him above her. “It’s later, Parkinson,” he told her before ducking his head and pressing his lips _there_. If his hand hadn’t been holding down her hip, she would have arched right off the bed. It was so _hot_. It was almost too intense, the heat of it, pressing, sucking right _there_. She didn’t last long, coming apart in a million pieces with a much too loud scream. 

He was up her body quickly, his hands wrapping her legs around his hips as he pushed his once again hardened shaft to her entrance. His hand dug in her hair, and he dropped his lips to hers as he surged inside her, breaking through all her barriers. He stilled.

“Pansy,” he said quietly against her mouth. A question in his voice.

“Don’t stop now,” her soft words brushed his lips gently, a soft exhale. He buried his face in the curls at her neck and set a smooth rhythm. She arched off the bed trying to catch it, but it remained a step ahead of her till the end, when she finally caught it and tipped herself over, causing him to follow into the void. Her heart was racing, and despite the fact she felt closer to death every day with this bloody war, she felt more alive than ever before. 

She nearly protested when Longbottom rolled to her side, but he promptly turned her and tucked her to his chest. She listened to his breathing slow and quiet. She wondered if he’d fallen asleep. 

“You never said you were a virgin,” he finally said, proving he was very much awake.

“The witch who makes the deal with the unscrupulous wizard is always a virgin,” she huffed gently.

“I suppose this makes me the unscrupulous wizard,” he sighed.

“I suppose. But… to be fair… this deal is working out rather in my favor right now,” she joked. 

“You would think that,” he gave a soft laugh, his hand curling over her breast possessively. His breathing deepened and she let herself sleep against his shoulder. 

True to his word, he had her three more times before sunrise when he finally allowed them to drift off into a deep sleep. She woke around eleven, sore, and satisfied. She dressed in a casual set of short robes, and a pair of warm leggings and boots, before heading down to lunch. She was starved. 

A quick glance at the other tables showed them mostly empty. Longbottom and the DA likely off in some secret local doing some actual learning. She sat down next to Daphne and asked Blaise to pass her an apple from across the table. 

“Well, well, well,” he said holding the basket of apples just out of reach. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“I overslept,” she sighed, swiping for the basket.

“And does it look _good_ on you,” laughed Blaise. “I have to know who did this to you. They are a miracle worker. Are you absolutely certain they are 100% straight?”

“_Blaise_!” she hissed over Daphne’s giggles. “You are an idiot. I don’t look any different than yesterday!”

“Except for that rather large hickey on your neck, love,” drawled Draco, choosing, as usual, the most inopportune time to drop into their conversation. Slapping a hand to her neck, she did find a tender spot, reaching into her bag, she quickly wound her slytherin scarf around her neck three times. 

“Fuck off,” she ordered her sniggering friends.

“But really Pansy, who is your mystery man? Please tell me he’s younger. And I mean, if he gave you this kind of morning after glow… whew… you almost make me want you,” said Blaise. “You don’t have the right bits, but man do you look satisfying.”

“Fuck off,” she repeated. “A lady never kisses and tells.”

“It’s obvious you did more than that, love,” Draco drawled, making her think of the way his voice carried the same aristocratic tones. 

“Mind your own bloody business,” she scowled and grabbed a random sandwich before abandoning her friends. Longbottom was lucky he’d not been in the great hall for this fiasco. She was near certain she couldn’t have kept from glancing over at him. As it was, she’d barely kept her eyes from shooting to the Gryffindor table when Draco had announced that Longbottom had given her a hickey. This was so _not_ allowed with their agreement.

That night, she was in the parlor waiting for him. He stumbled in at half past eleven, a little dirty, and a little disheveled. He ran a hand through his hair nervously seeing her sitting on the sofa, prim and proper in her housecoat. 

“I’d thank you to remember there shall be no more hickeys,” she announced, shifting the collar of her robe to reveal the rather obvious bruise on her pale skin. “We wanted this to be a secret.”

“Oh…” he said looking down at her. “My bad. Must have gotten carried away.”

“Carried away!” she shrieked, following him into the bathroom where he pulled the rather hideous sweater he was wearing over his head. “You couldn’t have been more obvious about stamping ‘just shagged’ on me if you tried!”

“Alright… won’t happen again. Now… if you’ll excuse me. I would like a shower, and unless you’re joining?” he shucked his trousers, his hardness protruding proudly. “I’ll see you in… twenty minutes.”

She was in her frilly pink housecoat on top of the covers with a book when he arrived, freshly showered, a white towel wrapped around his waist. 

“What did I tell you about all this?” he gestured to her. “What is it about the word naked that you don’t understand?” She set her book aside and rolled her eyes, getting up from her spot. 

“I told you, I get cold,” she huffed, untying the belt of the robe and draping it over a nearby chair.

“Much better,” he said coming over and putting a quick kiss on her nose as he dropped his towel. “Now, on your knees.” She dropped to her knees on the freezing stone floor, her hand reaching out to wrap around him. “No, no… not that… this time.” He lifted her onto the bed and crawled up beside her, slapping her arse affectionately. Flipping over onto his back he announced, “I’ve been envisioning you riding my face all day, and it’s already ten past.” He pulled her leg over his shoulder and positioned her where he wanted her with a happy groan. 

“Merlin Longbottom, you’re the most demanding wizard I’ve ever met,” she complained as he pinched her bum. 

“If I’m going to do this to you, you should probably call me Neville,” he said before pulling her down onto his waiting mouth without any more preamble. If this was the price she had to pay for the protection of the first through fourth years, she was _very _happy to do so.

**************************************************************************

“You’re going to make us late for class one of these days,” complained Pansy, reaching behind her back to hook her bra. 

“It’s not my fault the sun doesn’t rise before eight thirty now,” shrugged Neville. 

“My time is coming. The solstice is almost here, and then we’ll be out of bed much earlier.”

“I’m going to get you curtains for Christmas,” he joked.

“That... I admit it can be rather nice the way you’ve been waking us up in the mornings. You’re just going to have to start _earlier_,” she confessed, a pink blush covering her face. She’d been debating over what to get him for Christmas for weeks. What did one get one’s lover when he’s forced you into being his mistress, but you secretly are in love with him? Maybe she should buy _him _curtains.

“I love that you still blush,” he laughed, dipping a kiss to her cheek just as the sun peeped over the horizon.

“It’s only been a little over a month,” she protested, following him to the bathroom where they brushed their teeth quickly and she hurriedly pulled back her messy ‘sex’ hair into a tidy bun. A quick makeup spell, and she was ready to go out the door. 

“Has it really only been a that long?” he asked almost half out the door. 

“Yes,” she confirmed absently. “Six weeks.”

“Huh, and I still haven’t had near enough of you,” laughed Nev. “The first two months of school didn’t go near as fast. I’ll miss you over break.”

“I’m going to take up the whole bed,” she sighed dramatically. 

“I’ll have to make tonight something worth remembering then,” he pondered.

“Should give you something to think about today during classes,” she mused with false primness, doing her best imitation of a professor. “I expect an O on this assignment.”

“I’ll give you an O,” he shot back with a wink. He was such a devil, and she shouldn’t find him as amusing as she did. But a little over a month on, and this felt more like a relationship than an arrangement. 

He made it to her bed by sunrise every morning, but some nights he was out late doing things for the D.A. She wasn’t sure what it meant that she lost sleep worrying about him. 

After dinner, she headed to the slytherin common room. While she didn’t have any homework to work on, considering the train took them home for break tomorrow, she was the headgirl. She could remember the stress of having to pack your trunk to go home for the holidays before you had the grasp on magic to really help you. She had dragged her trunk to the boy’s dormitories where her fifth year older brother Patrick had magically packed things and used a weightless charm on it for her.

She didn’t have any younger siblings here, but she could help those who didn’t have an older student to help. She made her way through the first, second, and third year dormitories, helping pack trunks and sort out junk. It was soothing to perform the mindless task of helping another organize their things. It helped give Pansy time to organize her thoughts. Most of them never drifting far from Neville Longbottom. And what one got a lover for Christmas…

It was nearing midnight when she finally finished with the last of the third years. Fourth years and up would have to figure things out for themselves. She hurried out into the dungeons, eager to make it back to her warm tower. That was the worst thing about Hogwarts in the winter, the freezing passages. The common room and dorms were comfortable and cozy, the classrooms, adequately heated. It was all the places in between. She hugged her warm woolen robes to her chest, wishing she had a pair of gloves and scarf from her bag. Unfortunately, she’d returned it to her rooms before dinner. 

She was hurrying along the corridor, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She chanced a glance over her shoulder, cocking an ear for the sound of footsteps besides her own. She reached in her pocket and held the reassuring weight of her wand in her hand, the finely carved handle fitting neatly against her palm. 

She scurried around a corner and bumped into a solid chest. Taking two quick steps back, she faltered.

“A little late to be going somewhere, Parkinson.”

“I’m on my way to my dormitory. As headgirl, I have an excuse to be in the halls this time of night. It’s past curfew, what’s your excuse?” she demanded, wondering if she should pull her wand out of her pocket. She could hear the fear in her own voice, so she wasn’t surprised at the triumphant smile that appeared on Rowle’s face. He would be the type to get off on that sort of thing.

“It would be unchivalrous of me to let you go the rest of the way alone,” his voice was like a snake.

“I can make it on my own. Like I do every night,” she protested firmly. “Back to your dormitory, or I’ll have to take points from my own house.”

“We wouldn’t want that…” he said, his stance so relaxed, she didn’t realize he was like a coiled snake ready to strike. The silencing spell hit her so quickly she wasn’t sure where he’d been hiding his wand before he drew it. A good strategy to throw off an opponent who might not be a master of nonverbal spells. Spinning, she cast a non-verbal disarming spell over her shoulder and broke into a run. She threw a stinging hex backward with the flick of a wrist for good measure. Her long legs had to be good for something, and she’d grown up chasing after long legged boys. 

She was no match for a grown man though, and she thought maybe holding her ground would have been a better strategy as he flung her into a wall, crashing into her from behind. With the wind knocked out of her, she tried for a breath as he used his weight to force her against the wall.

She attempted headbutt him, but only managed to knock her head against his shoulder. The silenced scream of frustration was all the more infuriating. His grip on her wand wrist, twisting to get her to let go of the wand was painful, but she managed to fire off another silent spell, a blistering jinx that hit his leg, causing him to cry out in pain.

“You’ll regret that later, you little bitch,” he hissed in her ear, smashing her wrist against the wall in his punishing grip, finally managing to break her deathlike hold on her wand which clattered to the floor. While she was tall for a witch, she was tiny, and if she hadn’t been silenced, she would have let out an audible sob of frustration as she attempted to fight him off. His hand was pawing at her breast, squeezing painfully as he attempted to hike up her skirts while keeping her pinned. 

Pansy was panicking, his body weight too much for her to fight against. Her best bet was to attempt wandless magic which was unpredictable at best. Plus, her wand hand was swollen and the wrist felt broken, a sure way to weaken the attempt.

“If you’ve been trying to make me jealous with whatever shit you’ve been sleeping with this term, it’s worked. You’re such a little slut, aren’t you.”

Rowle bit the side of her neck, hard, distracting her and making it harder to fight without threatening more damage to her person. Tears were running down her face, and she could feel him fumbling with her clothes.

“Do you have any idea how close to death you are right now, Rowle?” came a hard voice from the darkness, pulling Pansy from her panic with the first word. She collapsed to the floor as her assailant sprang away from her to face a new threat standing in the middle of the hallway, wand drawn and sparking. She fumbled for her wand, and scuttled to the other side of the hallway on her knees before pushing to her feet and shrinking behind Neville like the pitiful coward she was. She made an attempt to righten her clothes, finding her robes torn at the fastener, and buttons missing from her oxford. 

“Didn’t realize Slytherins fell under your protection, Longbottom,” smirked Rowle, his calm demeanor in opposition to the way he’d sprung away from her moments ago. “I told Corner I’d lay off Weaslette and steer clear of any of your so called D.A. members. He didn’t bring up Parkinson.” 

“Pansy is under _my_ protection,” clipped Neville, glancing at her before pulling her into his side. 

“Ahhh… I see how things are. She’s been spreading her legs for _you_.” Rowle grinned. “Did she tell you she was trying to make me jealous?”

“Rowle,” growled Neville. “If you were armed, this would be much worse for you right now. As it is, I’m very much considering demonstrating several of the curses my grandfather Harfang Longbottom was dishonorably discharged from the Auror department for using. His transfer to the death room in the department of mysteries was quite the coup considering the black marks on his record. Although, there was a war on before his discharge. They weren’t complaining about the effectiveness of his experimental magic then.”

“You don’t have it in you.” Taunted the sixth year boy.

“So you’d like a demonstration then?” the Black family smirk lit up Neville’s face, causing his opponent to blanch. Blacks were known for four things: wealth, powerful magic, pure blood, and a tendency to go crazy. 

“I didn’t get a chance to touch the stupid slut,” protested Rowle.

“That isn’t what it looked like to me,” refuted Neville with a deadly purr to his deep voice. “If my eyes don’t deceive me, she’s already bruising, and I definitely didn’t leave this mark on her neck.” He stroked Pansy’s neck, causing her to shiver as she looked up into his cold blue eyes, completely devoid of warmth. He was starting to scare her.

“I find out you touched Pansy, or any other girl in this school, and you’ll find out first hand why my grandfather is known as the deadliest Auror in history. You do know he raised me… and he quite liked to keep a diary. For now… be glad I didn’t arrive a minute later.” Neville’s wand made a violent slashing motion, and boils erupted all over Rowle’s face, causing him to scream in agony.

“Inform anyone about this, and they’ll spread to the rest of your body… and I do mean _everywhere_,” snapped Neville. “Ohh… and have fun telling your parents how your wand managed to be snapped. I’ve heard Ollivander took a little vacation.”

The snapped pieces of Rowle’s wand appeared out of nowhere, falling to the floor with a clatter. Pansy wasn’t sure which would be more painful for the wizard, the boils or the wand. 

“You’ll pay for this one day, Longbottom,” shrieked Rowle. “The Dark Lord will take my side on this one.”

“You seem to be under the assumption that the Dark Lord will care what just happened to you,” Neville retorted, his aristocratic voice dripping with condensation. “I’m sure with Undesirable Number One on the loose he’s got much bigger fish to fry. Come, along luv, you’ve had a rough day,” Neville took her elbow in a manner she’d seen her father and uncle utilize when directing their wives around a ballroom full of high society and they wished to steer them away from an undesirable lot. She heaved a sigh of relief and flicked her eyes toward Rowle.

“Two hundred points from Slytherin,” she said lightly. As if it were an afterthought. She managed to glide down the corridor on Neville’s arm, but as soon as they turned the corner, she began shaking uncontrollably. 

“You’re okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” murmured Neville into her hair as he pulled them into a darkened alcove. 

“I didn’t imagine you would come. Thank Merlin you did,” she sobbed into his chest.

“Come on now, let’s get you to our rooms and cleaned up,” he suggested, his voice gravely, lifting her into his arms and carrying her the rest of the way to the tower while she cried into his shoulder. She cried while he healed her wrist and wrapped it in a cooling bandage. He dabbed dittany on the cuts on her knees and the bite mark on her neck. He helped her out of her clothing and washed her hair in the shower, drying it inexpertly with his wand into a curly mess before tucking her into bed next to him and holding her safe in his arms all night while she managed some much needed sleep.

Pansy startled awake in the dark, Neville’s soft breath on her neck. Twisting in his arms, she watched him sleep. His hard face from last night was replaced by the gentle repose of sleep, his lips soft, his eyelids lowered, splaying obscenely long lashes over his lean cheekbones. She raised her hand and slid a finger along his temple to his chin, the slight stubble along his jaw scratchy to her touch. She looked back to his eyes to find them watching her.

“Make love to me,” she whispered against his mouth, pressing her lips to his.

“You’re hurt,” he protested, smoothing her hair from her face with a sigh. His thumb brushed her temple which was sensitive from where she’d taken a bump to the head.

“I need you Nev,” she countered.

“You’re sure,” his eyes seemed to evaluate every bump and bruise from the night before.

“Your assignment from yesterday is overdue,” she joked, caressing his ear and sliding a fingernail down the back of his neck.

“Never let it be said that a Longbottom didn’t complete every assignment,” he chuckled. “Merlin, you’re beautiful when you’re like this, all soft and sweet. You sure you want this?”

“I always want this,” she sighed before deepening the kiss and fully washing away the memory of any other man. She focused on the press of Neville’s gentle fingers sliding along her hips, his soft lips along her check and neck, the delicate wet slide of his tongue along her nipple, the tender way he rocked himself inside her until they were panting and sated. A healing loving.

********************************************** 

Two nights later, at home at Parkview, she couldn’t sleep. Lying awake, she watched the clock tick past three am. She wondered how Neville was, if his Gran was doing well. Every creak of the old manor was a monster in the night. She slept much better with him at her side, if she was being completely honest. Especially considering what had happened just two nights ago. She was afraid of shadows in her childhood home. She needed him to help her sleep… And not just because he wore her out with his magnificent shagging skills. She huffed and turned over onto her stomach. 

The next morning, after an agonizing night tossing and turning with only three hours of sleep, she came downstairs to see her father had uncharacteristically stayed home from work.

“Your Aunt and Uncle are coming for dinner.”

“Will Draco be coming?” she asked. She hadn’t seen Uncle Lou since his stint in Azkaban. Draco claimed he’d returned changed, but hadn’t said how. 

“No… I believe he will be staying with… his other relatives for the evening.”

Her Aunt and Uncle arrived via floo exactly on time. Uncle Lou was dressed more shabbily than she had ever seen, his hair in disarray. Aunt Cissa looked lovely as ever if you overlooked the pinched look on her usually smooth features. 

“Violet, Peter,” said Aunt Cissa kissing them both on their cheeks. “Pansy, darling,” she pulled Pansy into a tighter than usual hug. Uncle Lou kissed his sister, shook her father’s hand and pressed an affectionate kiss to her hair. “Merlin, it’s good to be out of that house. It’s completely draining.”

“Rumor has it that Bellatrix and the Dark Lord are your houseguests,” her mother fished for information.

“Rumor is often rooted in fact. We are drowning in houseguests and practically prisoners in our own home. We can’t leave the house without leaving Draco behind. With him at school, we’ve been stuck under his thumb for months. It’s just… dreadful,” Aunt Cissa confessed quietly, her wand waving wildly as she set up a set of complicated privacy wards Pansy couldn’t hope to duplicate. 

“This whole mess is a horrible mistake. Peter, he’s going to come here tomorrow. He wants me to pave the way for him. He wants your support to the Cause.”

“Me, a death eater?” laughed her tall, thin, and bookish father. He adjusted his spectacles and patted his spindly arms with a self deprecating grin. “I didn’t even OWL in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m a healer for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yes, but you’re head healer at Mungo’s, and you’re one of the wealthiest purebloods around.”

“What, he’s going to demand funds? He controls the entire ministry. He doesn’t need money. He needs bodies to throw on the bonfire of a war he’s started,” her father protested.

“I don’t bloody know, play up your strengths. _Don’t_ let on Violet is an experimental spell crafter. Don’t have Pansy here when he comes. We’ve got the Lovegood girl in our dungeon. He’s using her against her father to shut up that magazine of his.”

“Where do you propose we send her? Patrick’s still working on his mastery in Australia, but it’s too late to arrange for an international portkey.”

“Brilliant move sending your heir off,” Uncle Lou said with a shake of his head. “No… he’ll have his eyes on international portkeys. He’s got his hands in everything. The ministry is his pet puppet. He’s going to kill us all.” Seeing her normally stoic and connivingly clever uncle near tears scared Pansy more than anything she’d seen at Hogwarts all year. No wonder Draco had been so distant. 

“I’ve a friend… I can visit,” said Pansy, being deliberately vague. “I’ll be there for the rest of the holiday.”

“The less we all know, the better. Some wizards just want to watch the world burn… I’m afraid at how much the Dark Lord seems to enjoy this pastime.”

“Can he be reasoned with?” asked her father nervously. His hand running through the dark hair he’d passed to Pansy. 

“It just depends on his mood,” sighed Aunt Cissa. “He rather enjoys a good egg dish, and chicken. Serve that.”

“Pansy, go pack,” her mother directed, her violet eyes wide in fear. 

“Pansy, these memories have been sealed with the spell I did earlier. You won’t be able to tell anyone what you’ve heard today specifically. But no one could see them in your mind. They will be blocked. He’s very good at that. Very very good.”

“Thank you Aunt Cissa,” Pansy addressed her with a shaky smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Passing outside the warded room, she felt the spell wash over her. She hurried upstairs. Luckily, she had a destination in mind. Neville had pressed his address in her palm as they passed on the express yesterday. _In case you miss me._ The unspoken offer of in case you need me also applied. She knew it did.

She tossed and turned all night, the suitcase of clothes by the door quite full, and every sound in the night more scary than the night before. She finally dragged herself out of bed around ten, dressing and heading downstairs for a quick breakfast. Her father had once again skipped work. Her father’s dark curls and her mother’s ice blonde waves blurred as she realized depending how the Dark Lord’s visit went, she might never see them again. 

“You should go shopping in Diagon Alley first. Shrink your bag, and peruse the shops a few hours. Have lunch in a café. It will look very uneventful. Not as suspicious,” her mum, ever the slytherin suggested. 

“Of course. I need a new set of gloves. And some underthings. Surely no one would find that… suspicious. Has he owled yet?”

“No. But Uncle Lou said we might not expect him tonight if something were to come up.”

“So you’re just going to wait here?”

“What else is there, love?” asked her father, a medical journal in his hand as if it was just another breakfast. 

“Fine. Well, I’ll see you later. Love you,” she said, blinking back tears before hugging her parents. 

“If… if the worst were to occur. I’ve… there’s muggle money in your bag, and directions on how to get to Patrick. Muggle transportation. You will go directly to him, not return to school. You hear me?” Peter Parkinson ordered her in harshly whispered Welsh. 

“Yes, papa,” she nodded, replying in the same language. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Pansy hid her shaking hands in the pockets of her robes while she shopped, her fingers wrapped around her wand. No one noticed her or gave her trouble. She made several purchases, none so expensive or exceptional to be excessive, but she let her face be seen. Around five, she glanced at the time and made a show of checking her belongings and hurrying out of the last shop. She headed for the apparation point and zipped away. 

It was colder here than London. Probably all the open space. And also, she was fairly certain it was in Scotland. Longheath they called it. It had the dreary look of an English winter, but the façade of the building was more cheerful than any manor house she’d seen. It was tall, made of golden stone with turrets at each corner, a perfect square, the long drive looping in a wide circle in front of the massive wooden doors. Hurrying to them, she rang the bell, hearing the loud clang echo through the thick wooden doors. 

A house elf answered, wearing a ridiculously cheery pillowcase with flowers embroidered all over it and belted at the waist with what appeared to be fake muggle imitation ivy. 

“May I ask who is calling?” demanded the elf with authority Pansy hadn’t see since Joseph, their butler elf had retired. Benjy, his replacement was _much_ less dignified. She’d never seen a girl elf butler before.

“I’m here to see Neville. I’m a friend from school…”

“Ohhh, a friend of Neville’s is always welcome! We weren’t expecting you,” interrupted a booming voice. Neville’s grandmother was a tall and stately woman with her grey hair in a thick bun and her formal dress looking rather expensive. 

“Oh… didn’t he mention I was going to be staying a few nights to work on… our astronomy project,” Pansy suddenly nervous found herself spouting off the most ridiculous lie.

“Oh, no dearie. It must have slipped his mind, which is unfortunately like him. And what did you say your name was again?”

“June…. June Smith,” she lied, her tongue tying and the lie coming off awkwardly.

“Oh… which branch of the Smith tree?”

Bloody hell, of course… “My father is Jacob,” she improvised. The Smiths were decidedly Jewish, and so she plucked a biblical name from her memory. She should have chosen Hannah, Rachel, or Sarah for herself.

“He’s in the conservatory, Ivy will take you. I’ll make sure we prepare a room right away.”

Pansy followed the elf down the hall and through a maze of corridors until they reached a sunny conservatory. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” Neville’s blue eyes dance with glee when he saw her, standing and walking toward her with a happy smile.

“I… well…” she twisted her hands. “I’m here to work on that Astronomy Project. So I might have to stay a few nights.”

“Ahh… astronomy project,” he winked at her, still grinning.

“And erm… I told your gran my name was June Smith.”

“What?”

“I panicked!”

“You do seem rather on edge.”

“I…”

“Is everything alright? You are here because you missed me right?”

“I… This seemed like a better idea this morning.”

“Pans…”

“I… Can I stay?”

“Yes,” he answered, his eyes taking on that alertness she associated with the DA. “Of course. And you can tell me when you’re ready.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it to chapter two! Hope it wasn't a let down and you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! This is fic is meant to be somewhat short and sweet. It started as a really long one-shot, but the idea expanded in my brain. Hopefully you liked it and didn't find it too dramatic! Let me know in the towel section below v ~E.A.


	3. You are the Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why do gryffindors have to turn everything into a race against time and death? And was Longbottom rubbing off on her in more ways than one? There's a reason Slytherins don't nurture the seed of bravery when it's planted in their heart. It can only lead to one thing. And Pansy would rather keep her head attached to her neck, all things considered. Nearly Headless Nick was a ghost decidedly appropriate for his assigned house.

That night, they were playing cribbage in the library when an unfamiliar owl arrived. The message was written in Welsh. “Agreed to open a ward for _their_ injuries at the hospital. Stay where you are. We are safe. Love you.” She tapped her wand to the short scroll before it burned into nothing in her hand. If either of the Longbottoms thought it odd, neither said anything. Augusta simply dealt the next hand.

She ended up staying with the Longbottoms the rest of the holiday. The home was under more ancient protection spells than Pansy had ever seen. Nev’s grandmother was kindly and didn’t press further as to the reason she was visiting, despite her and Neville never even pretending to work on an astronomy project and her name mysteriously changing to Pansy. And if Augusta realized she and Neville were sharing a bed, she certainly didn’t say anything. 

Although, hopefully Neville’s silencing spells on their room were working. Christmas eve, they retired early, Augusta worn out from having attempted to cook Christmas cookies without magic, having gone overboard making eight dozen. No wonder Neville had been a chubby child.

Pansy had barely closed the door to her lavish guest suite when Nev apparated into the room with a crack. He impatiently loosened the tie that had been required for the formal attire his grandmother had demanded at dinner. He wasn’t much one for ties, Pansy had noticed. She crossed to the dressing table and sat, taking her earrings out, large baubles that had been passed from the Malfoy side to her when she was seventeen. She gingerly pulled the pins from her hair that she’d piled on top her head for the occasion and watched in the mirror as Nev’s fingers unbuttoned his festively red oxford, baring his muscled chest. She sighed and leaned against him as he took over and began massaging her scalp. 

“Your fingers are magic,” she moaned as he continued the massage down her neck, slyly unzipping her green Christmas dress and sliding it over her shoulders.

“Are you interested in seeing my magic wand?” he joked in her ear, his lips skirting over the sensitive earlobe before nibbling on her neck.

“Is it _big_?” she joked, meeting his sparkling eyes in the mirror, watching as he peeled the dress from her body to reveal the lacy underthings beneath.

“This is nice,” he commented, running his fingers over the red lace with gold embellishments. “Did you get for me?”

“Happy Christmas,” she smiled.

“You know I like you best naked,” he gave a fake huff of annoyance. “But… the color is rather charming on you.”

“I rather thought you’d like it,” she laughed, noticing he had made no attempts to remove the barely there lingerie.

“Do the panties match?” he asked, pulling her to her feet, and pushing the dress further over her hips.

“They do,” she grinned, leaning into him and pushing the red oxford down his arms, letting it fall to the floor. She leaned up into him, nuzzling her face against his, enjoying the soft scratch of his five o’clock shadow. “But I never said I was wearing panties,” she whispered in his ear huskily.

“The best presents don’t even require pretty wrapping,” he laughed, spinning her and tossing her on the bed. 

“You should know I had to look the shop attendant in the eye buying these. She was that watery ravenclaw who graduated a few years back. I could tell she was questioning my sanity.”

“Brilliant gift,” laughed Nev as he shucked the rest of his clothing. “Next year, let’s just get property of Neville Longbottom tattoo’d across your arse.” 

“Ahhh, is that your kink?” she laughed as he playfully swatted said bum. Secretly, her heart skipped a beat that he seemed to think they would still be together in a year.

“You know damn well you’re my kink,” he quipped with a grin.

“You know, I rather thought skipping knickers would get things going more quickly. What’s taking you so long?”

“I’ll show you long,” he deadpanned.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” she laughed out loud, the laugh abruptly breaking off into a moan as he pressed himself inside her. 

“You sure you can’t tell me why you’re spending the holiday here instead of with your parents, whom from what you said before break were looking forward to seeing you?” he asked her after he caught his breath. His hair was sweaty and sticking up from where she’d pulled on it. He was as she privately thought, deliciously disheveled.

“No.”

“Nothing?”

“I’m sorry, but I actually cannot.”

“Well, your present then,” he sighed. “If I can’t shag the truth out of you, nothing will work.”

“Oooh, you got me a present?” she asked.

“Of bloody course I did. I actually got you two presents. Open this one first,” he reached across her for his wand and summoned a small package.

“You know, they say the loveliest things come in small packages,” she said taking the small present. It was smaller than a book, but larger than a makeup compact, flat and square. He propped himself on his elbow and watched her expectantly.

“I really didn’t get you much… you know… besides the… lacy things… which we know are really for myself.”

“Get on with it Pans… who knew you were so shy about getting gifts.” She blushed and pulled at the paper, bright green and silver. He’d chosen her house colors. The flat velvet box was obviously jewelry when she pulled away the paper. She hadn’t realized he was planning to be so generous. But then again, she was a paramour. Every pureblooded male worth his salt knew that paramours demanded jewelry. Of course she should have expected it. 

Cracking open the lid, she gently fingered the deep purple stones. Deeply purple amethysts, set in a silver necklace. The kind of jewelry that turned heads. It was clearly goblin made. The silver work was too delicate to be anything else. 

“This is too much, Nev,” she breathed even as he took it out of the box and draped it over her neck. 

“This is for me… It looks just like I pictured on you,” he smirked. “You can wear it for me… just the necklace.” He winked and she blushed all over.

“Surely this is a family piece,” she protested, even as she traced her fingers over the large stones.

“It isn’t doing much in the vault. And it looks to be made for you. I’ve never seen a witch whose eyes could match the color of the stones so perfectly,” he pressed a kiss to her collarbone. “I want it to be yours.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she laughed awkwardly.

“Thank you, has always been a popular answer, but I’d settle for, take me I’m yours,” he suggested with a smirk.

“You said you had a second gift for me, Mr. Longbottom,” she stuck her nose in the air and pretended an air of indifference as he gently kissed her shoulders while tracing the necklace along her chest with a delicate finger.

“Fine…” he sighed in fake annoyance, summoning a second package, much larger than the first. 

She grinned, taking the package from him. It was a plain box under the paper, so she was utterly surprised when she lifted the lid to find the snowy white kitten on a green blanket bed.

“Ooooh,” she gasped pulling the sleeping kitten and pressing it’s soft pale fur to her cheek. “She’s perfect.”

“I rather thought you’d think so,” he leaned back against the headboard with a self satisfied smirk.

“Oh, I just adore her,” she pressed the kitten’s darling pink nose to her own and then cuddled her to her naked breast. “Thank you, Neville.” She leaned over and kissed him soundly. “I’m going to call her Evangelica, since you gave her to me on Christmas Eve and she’s just a little angel.”

“You love animals more than any witch I know,” he grinned watching her pet the sweet kitten with tears in her eyes. “She’s part kneazel so she’s meant to be brilliant.”

“Of course she is. She’s a regular little genius. She’s perfect, I love her,” cooed Pansy.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready for another cat, but since your last cat passed away in fifth year…” He broke off, probably realizing how incriminating it was that he knew that bit of information. Sure she'd gone to classes with red rimmed eyes for weeks, but she hadn't advertised her cat had passed away.

“I love her, this was the perfect gift, Nev.”

“Alright, well, let’s put poor little Evangelicat back in her bed. The house elves were playing with her all day so she’d be worn out, but I’m sure you’ll be able to cuddle and play with her to your hearts content tomorrow.”

“Awww… is poor Nevie jealous of the wittle kitty?” taunted Pansy, kissing the little kitten and putting her back in her little bed.

“Maybe,” he chuckled with a wink.

“It’s too bad you weren’t a very good boy this year, I don’t think father Christmas is going to be able to get you anything near as good,” Pansy said in a sugary voice as she set the sleeping kitten aside. “I heard you’ve been very, very naughty Mr. Longbottom.”

“Very naughty,” he breathed as he watched Pansy crawl toward him on the bed, her only ornament the amethyst necklace. He was rock hard the second she’d turned her sex eyes on him.

“Do you know what happens to naughty boys?” she asked, a mischievous smirk on her face. He shook his head as she lowered her mouth over him before pulling off with an audible pop, causing him to groan. “They are punished,” she said shortly before resuming her goal. 

********************************

“I didn’t think it was possible, but Longbottom looks even more shagable this term,” sighed Blaise. “Do you think I have a chance?”

“Decidedly not,” laughed Theo. “That one’s as straight as they come.”

“I wonder how long he can go before he cums,” pondered Blaise licking his lips, causing Pansy to spit out her pumpkin juice all over a nearby second year.

“Stop torturing Pansy, boys. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t still have that thing for Longbottom.” sighed Daphne. “We all know she’s been shagging Mr. Mysterious for months.”

“If he _is_ a _Mister_,” pointed out Blaise with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Something you’ve been holding out on us, luv?”

“Oh, it’s definitely a _Mister_, I saw his handprint on her hip in the prefects bath. Women don’t leave that kind of bruises, and never quite that large,” put in Daphne. “He isn’t _hurting_ you?”

“No!” exclaimed a scandalized Pansy. Sometimes Nev was a little rough with her, but she usually only noticed the marks later. She enjoyed it to much to mind a bruise here or there. She insisted it was because she bruised so easily. 

“Just don’t get knocked up,” suggested Draco. “It might be less complicated if you were shagging another woman.”

“Sod off all of you!” burst out Pansy, glaring at her friends and vacating the slytherin table. Storming out of the great hall, she felt like she had to make a special effort to avoid looking at the Gryffindor table where she knew Nev was eating his breakfast. Merlin, keeping this entire affair from her friends was hard. And considering she’d had a major thing for them for years, they tended to tease her about him mercilessly. Especially when he came down to breakfast with such wild sex hair.

The obscene floral arrangement delivered to the slytherin table via two owls on St. Valentine’s day was probably what did it. When she thought about it later, it was definitely the moment she fell completely in love with Neville Augustus Longbottom. Even Daphne was looking at her with envy as she received the largest bundle of bright red roses, interspersed with fat deep pink Dahlias and delicate bleeding heart pansies. What was most amazing about this gift was it was still living, the flowers magically grafted onto the same bush, creating a beautiful plant that was blooming in unseasonable splendor. The bright red pot holding the plant was too heavy for Pansy to carry herself, so she was forced to levitate it with her all day until it could be returned to her headgirl apartments. 

Every single one of the sixth and seventh year girls who saw it looked on in envy at the ostentation declaration. “Surely you’re going to tell us who sent these,” whispered Tracy fingering a red rose in Charms. “This isn’t a casual thing. You have to tell us about your mystery wizard now.”

“No, it’s between him and me,” laughed Pansy looking at the flowers with awe. Sometimes she wondered if Neville was in it just for the excellent sex, but then… sometimes he’d give her a look, or something like this, and she wondered if his feelings were real too. She wasn’t as stupid as to pretend that she hadn’t been having feelings for the Gryffindor since the beginning. She probably wouldn’t have even agreed to the arrangement if not for her massive crush, but from the very first night, she’d been falling. And looking at those delicate purple and red pansys mixed into the arrangement, she knew. She was completely and utterly in love. The mere thought made her a little sick to her stomach.

He was waiting in her bedroom when she finally made it back to the dorms that night, levitating the massive flowering bush ahead of her. That Black family smirk slipped across his handsome face a dark look in his blue eyes, making her nipples tighten in anticipation. He reserved that look for her.

“How did you even manage this?” she laughed, gesturing to the fragrant blossoms.

“Room of Requirement provided all the sunshine I needed. It didn’t really take much to be honest. Simple grafting,” he said by way of explanation. “Now get over here, I’ve been wanting to kiss that smile of yours all day. Getting through charms without kissing you senseless was pure torture.”

“You shouldn’t have made me so happy with these then,” she smirked, crawling over to the bed to thank him with a long kiss. 

“It was worth it,” he laughed pulling her into his lap. “The look on your face when they realized they were for you.”

“You know this isn’t part of our agreement. You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. I wanted to give you everything,” he sighed, a slight look of frustration on his face as he rested his forehead against hers. “It wasn’t about… the arrangement. It was extra.”

“It isn’t midnight yet,” she whispered looking over to the clock. “This isn’t about the arrangement.” She kissed her red lips down the side of his neck, slowly breaking away to pull off his plain black t-shirt. She kissed down his chest, dragging her tongue through the hair beneath his belly button. She looked up to meet her eyes to his with a mischievous grin. She told herself his eyes were looking at her with the adoration of someone who genuinely loved her.

*****************************

Five weeks later, it was between classes. Pansy was hurrying to make it to Charms on time, but she’d been delayed leaving Transfiguration by a question from McGonagall involving her headgirl duties. She had cut through the dark arts corridor, and was just hurrying past the open first year classroom when she heard it. A shrill scream. Her heels skidded to a halt and she backed up to look inside. 

A horrified class of first years were looking on as one of their own lay limp on the floor, the bright blue ravenclaw crest on her robes proclaiming her a ravenclaw first year. First year students were so decimated by the war, no muggleborns and much fewer half bloods that the classroom was the entire first year class. 

“Now, who can demonstrate the spell we worked on last class _without_ making a mistake?” demanded the professor. Pansy watched the first years shrink further in their seats. “No volunteers?” sneered the professor. “Jones, let’s see a little of that legendary Gryffindor bravery.”

A trembling first year approached the front of the class and attempted to perform an attack spell on the dueling dummy. A severing spell if Pansy wasn’t mistaken. One of the Carrow’s favorites for punishment. The spell looked effective, but it missed the dummy and hit the wall instead. 

“Did you even practice at all!” demanded the professor again with a frown. “Crucio!” The child crumpled to the floor with a scream.

“PROFESSOR!” screeched Pansy, stepping into the room, her wand aloft without realizing. “JUST WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE!?”

“I am teaching, Miss Parkinson. Just what are you doing out of classes?”

“I was sent here by Headmaster Snape, he needs to see you immediately.”

“Somehow I doubt that considering professor Snape is in Wiltshire for the day.”

“This is wrong. You can’t torture students in class!” she finally burst out, unable to hold back.

“You forget your place Miss Parkinson. I am in charge here, and how I choose to discipline my students is not your concern.” His sneer was all crooked teeth and an evil glint in his eye. “Crucio,” he casually resumed the torture of the poor gyrffindor boy on the ground. 

“Protego!” clipped Pansy, a shield charm bouncing off the spell that caused a nearby window to shatter. 

“My my, feeling a little brave yourself today,” sneered the professor, turning his wand on her. Little did he know that defense against the dark arts had been one of her best classes before it transitioned to Dark Arts. 

“First years, return to your common rooms, your heads of house will understand when I explain what happened here,” Pansy snapped, not looking at the students. Professor Carrow was clearly unstable, and this was the final straw. 

“_I _will dismiss my class when the lesson is over!” growled the professor. 

“Run little sparrows,” Pansy ordered calmly stepping into a dueling stance. Carrow slashed his wand and she put up a shield, stepping to the side, avoiding the hex. 

He wasn’t a very good dueler. She had dueled with Draco, Aunt Cissa, her mother, and Uncle Lou since fifth year. It was a special hobby of Aunt Cissa’s and with the war coming, she had felt it important for the cousins to practice. It wasn’t until he started throwing spells she knew to be deadly that she realized just how serious this really was. Out of desperation, she threw a spell she had learned from Draco, that had nearly killed him last year. The slash that appeared across the professor’s face, across his left arm and lopping off his hand would have made her smile with relief if it hadn’t been so disgusting. The sight of his stubbed arm, the bone and flesh bleeding profusely as he hastily wound his cloak around it to staunch the bleeding gave her pause which was the moment he needed. The blasting curse barely missed her but threw her into the wall behind her, knocking her head hard against the stone. Her wand fell limp from her hand, her brain fuzzy and thoughts scattered. 

He approached her slowly, like a cat stalking prey, the blood running across the slash in his face painting a gruesome picture. She gasped for breath and struggled to focus her thoughts. Her fingers reached for her dropped wand, but couldn’t seem to find it on the sticky floor. The floor sticky with her blood.

“Who would have thought, little Miss Parkinson,” sneered the death eater, his wand inches from her face. “Avada-“

Pansy clenched her eyes against the green glow taking a deep breath and thinking of Neville’s blue eyes and steady smile.

“STUPIFY!”

The thud of a heavy body hitting the floor shocked Pansy into opening her eyes. Surely she’d imagined the voice. 

“Pansy!” Neville’s strangled cry directed her eyes toward the door, meeting his agonized gaze. What a wonderful death fantasy, being rescued by the wizard you love. He was kneeling over her, cradling her head, lifting her gently into his arms, death taking on his persona to carry her into the afterlife. How lovely.

“You aren’t dying, Pansy,” he ordered.

“Stop telling me what to do,” she managed before she closed her eyes. 

She woke up in the hospital wing two days later. She was relieved she hadn’t died, but also pretty confused she hadn’t. Looking to her hand, clasped in another she turned to see pale silver eyes looking down on her.

“Damn it Pansy,” whispered Draco, burying his face in her hair. “Don’t do stupid things. You aren’t allowed to leave me here alone with these people.”

“Ha, so you’re the only one allowed to cause trouble,” she choked out her dry throat. 

“Official story is that you were found stupefied in a broom closet. Longbottom polyjuiced himself as you for devious purposes, but was sidetracked by what happened in the first year classroom and attacked Carrow. Longbottom has of course disappeared, the teachers _can’t_ find him anywhere. Carrow’s been at Mungo’s recovering since Pomphrey refused to treat his sorry arse. They haven't managed to regrow his hand, so it's a permanent loss. Alecto is furious and convinced there’s more to the story. You have a lot of explaining to do,” Draco murmured. 

“What?”

“Longbottom took the fall for you, for reasons I can’t begin to fathom. There’s a death warrant for him as far as the death eaters are concerned. Longheath has completed disappeared off the face of the earth, his grandmother in deep hiding, probably a fidelius. He’s probably there somehow. They sent five death eaters after her and she offed three of them before she escaped. She’s holed up now, but… Merlin. Who would have thought Longbottom’s grandmother, secret badass.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” she gasped. “Breathing hurts.”

“Pomphrey was horrified you’d not wake up from that head wound, not to mention the punctured lung and the cuts from all that glass.”

“So I got a little banged up, you should have seen the other guy,” she laughed weakly as her cousin gently tucked a dark curl behind her ear in an uncharacteristic sign of affection.

“You’re an idiot. He’s rubbed off on you,” accused Draco, his silver eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she looked away, never a good liar when it came to her cousin.

“Of course you don’t,” sighed Draco. “If it makes a difference, I’m happy for you. He’s a good wizard, the kind I wish I could be. And not just because he was the one that saved your sorry arse. Even if he’s practically a dead man walking now.”

“You don’t mean that,” she protested. Nev couldn't be marked for death. Surely, she would wake up in his arms and this entire thing would have been a nightmare.

“The Dark Lord wants him bad. He’s decided he’s to blame for everything that’s going wrong here. With his grand plans for the School to.”

“Is our patient finally awake!?” came a concerned female voice, cutting off Draco midsentence. “I thought I told you to get me the second she came to,” Madame Pomphrey’s round face and blue eyes popped up around the curtain.

“I was just coming to get you,” lied Draco smoothly, the smile he used to charm everyone from professors to his dates making an appearance. “Just had to reassure Pansy that she was okay and I was coming back before I left her alone.”

“You’ve been quite diligent staying at her bedside,” commended Madame Pomphrey. “You should go rest, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Of course, I will leave my cousin in your capable hands,” he conceded, disappearing. 

Pansy sighed as the madame performed a series of diagnostic spells, missing Draco’s soothing presence already. 

“Mr. Longbottom will be here in a few minutes,” the healer broke off Pansy’s train of thought.

“But Draco said…”

“I thought you might have been awake longer than your cousin implied,” sighed the Madame.

“Where’s Neville?”

“I can’t say, but he is sure to come as soon as it’s full dark. He’s managed to sneak in here the last few nights, and the sun is setting now. He’s managed to hide away during the day, and he knows _I’m_ not about to turn him in after I collaborated on that ridiculous story he came up with to save your arse. Alecto would have surely finished the job her brother started by now if he hadn’t come up with the lie.”

“What, that he Polyjuiced himself as me?”

“Yes, and apparently modified Carrow’s memories, because if Carrow remembered how injured you were when he woke up, it would have been a dead giveaway.”

“Ahh…” sighed Pansy, her thoughts disorganized with all this information. “And…”

“Don’t worry, the babe is fine too,” Pomphrey assured her with a pat on the hand.

“_WHAT?_” Pansy’s eyes flew to the surprised eyes of the madame.

“Well, seeing how far along you are, I assumed you knew.”

“What?!” Pansy repeated, feeling rather certain she must have hit her head harder than she thought.

“I regret to inform you that you’re probably two and a half months pregnant,” Madame Pomphrey’s voice was slightly sharp.

“I’ve been so stressed, and I’ve lost so much weight,” gasped Pansy, her breath coming fast. “I thought it was the war.”

“I can assure you it was not. And you are very lucky that this one was planted so well, because as banged up as you were, it seems the babe wasn’t disturbed at all.”

“Merlin’s beard,” whispered Pansy on a shaky exhale.

“Pansy!” came Neville’s deep voice, joy and relief evident from the single word. She looked up and met his joyous eyes with hard violet eyes of her own. 

“Oooh,” gasped Madame Pomphrey, her eyes darting between the students as her eyebrows lifted in recognition. “That makes much more sense. Well, I’ll just leave the two of you. Let me know if you need anything, but if your healing continues at this rate, we’ll have you back in your dorm by tomorrow afternoon.”

Neville turned and watched the healer head to her quarters before turning back to Pansy, taking her hand and smoothing a hand over her limp curls. “Damn it Pansy, you aren’t supposed to make teachers mad enough to kill you. Don’t do that again, I about died.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” sighed Pansy her thoughts racing. 

“I didn’t mean to plant the seed of bravery in your staunch little slytherin heart,” he joked, stroking her cheek. Frowning when his words spurred a tear to spill over and follow his thumb. He gently wiped the tears that were now coming steadily. “Hey now…”

“Apparently that isn’t the only thing you planted, you stupid Gryffindor…” she sobbed. “Pomphrey said I’m pregnant.”

“What?!” Neville pulled back slightly.

“First rule of having a mistress is not to create any little bastards,” cried Pansy.

“I… Merlin’s balls…”

“Why would we want to bring a child into this horrible world?!” Pansy agonized, ignoring his stammering. “How stupid I was, not thinking of consequences. We should have been more careful. What more awful time to start a new life than during this terrible war.”

“That’s it, no more fighting for you,” Neville said gruffly, pulling her into his arms. “I told you I would protect the first years, and I failed. You need to stay out of all of this. We’ll get you to your brother Patrick as soon as school lets out. Gran has a friend who used to work in the department of transportation. We can get you an illegal international portkey.” The look of absolute terror for her on his face crashed over Pansy. She wasn't alone in her worry about this development. Every fear that had popped into her head in the last five minutes was justified.

“I have muggle money,” she confessed. “Mum gave it to me over Christmas. In case the worst happened after I went to your house. In case I needed to flee completely.”

“That then,” confirmed Neville.

“And you’ll come with me,” she demanded.

“No… It’s my job to fight. As long as there are battles raging, I’ll fight. It’s my duty. I have to make this world a safe place for you.”

“Hell, Nev… don’t pretend it’s about me, this is just a consequence of our deal.”

“Damn it Pans, it’s always been about you!” growled Nev, forcing her to look at him, a hand on either side of her face. “From the moment you stepped into Charms fifth year with that stupid red lipstick you started wearing over the summer. With your violet eyes and those red lips, I was a gonner. And then… you presented the unscrupulous wizard with an opportunity, and I took it. Damn it, I love you from your bright red toenails to the mahogany curls on the top of your head.”

“Damn it Longbottom, you’re making me cry,” she sniffed, trying and failing to hide her tears by looking away. “I don’t know why I love you so bloody much. You only ever create problems for me.”

“It’s because I’m so devilishly handsome,” he smirked, a look of acute relief at her backhanded confession.

“Someone has an elevated opinion of himself. Hopefully this child takes after me,” she joked through her tears.

“Merlin, Pansy. This changes so much.”

“We only have three months before graduation. I’ll keep my head down the rest of the year. I’ll go to Carrow with Snape, apologize for allowing you to get the best of me so that you could Polyjuice yourself with my hair. I’ll play the stupid weak witch. I can keep my head down the rest of the year. I’ll protect our child, but you have to promise me to protect yourself. In exchange you survive through the year and leave with me for Australia as soon as I graduate.”

“You know I can’t promise that, Pans.”

“Yes, you can! You just won’t!” She argued desperately.

“I’m going to join the Order outside of Hogwarts after you leave. I’ll stay around here to protect you, but… I can’t go with you after.”

“Damn it Nev. Can’t you leave the bravery to someone else for once?”

“We can’t run from all our problems. This is one that someone needs to face off head on or it will catch up to you. You don’t think you-know-who is going to stop with England?”

“You’ve only just confessed you’re mine. I’m not ready to let you go,” she whispered, stroking his hair, rubbing her thumb along the rim of his ear.

“I’m not going anywhere, and I haven’t moved out of your rooms. Official word is I’m in the room of requirement, but…”

“Damn it Nev. What do you think our chances of all three of us surviving this mess?” she asked quietly, pressing a hand to her stomach which she was relieved to find still flat.

“I was never good at divination Pansy,” laughed Nev.

“I really do love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” his breath was hot against her ear, his tears cool on her forehead as he held her tight.

*********************

“What do the others in the room of requirement think when you leave at night?” asked Pansy, sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair while Nev dried himself from the shower. 

“I don’t really care, Pans.”

“But, do they know where you sleep?”

“I think they think I’m superhuman and patrolling the halls for death eaters.” Pansy met her own eyes in the mirror and rolled them with a sigh before pulling her curls into a bun on the top of her head.

“I think they have a fair idea of where I _might_ be,” he answered, bending down and kissing her bare shoulder. “Abbott came onto me a few weeks back, and I told her I was involved with someone. Finnegan insisted that was proof I was knocking boots with you.”

“I don’t know how you spend all day every day stuck with them in that room.” Pansy turned up her nose at the thought of Hannah Abbott and her large perky breasts.

“It’s bigger than you’d imagine,” protested Neville. “Now come to bed, luv. I’m a lucky bastard that gets to escape the room to be with you every night and you’re depriving me of my favorite benefit of that.”

“Maybe I’m tired tonight,” she huffed with fake exaggeration.

“Great, I can hold you while you sleep.”

********************** 

Neville wasn’t in her bed, but the students were being called down to the great hall. Everyone was in their pajamas. She was wearing her holyhead harpies nightgown under her school robes, her headgirl badge pinned half hazardly on her chest, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Her wand gripped white knuckled in her hand. Harry Potter was here, Voldemort’s voice was booming over the castle, magically magnified. She knew this was a battle she would have to sit out and one that Nev couldn’t resist dying in. All things equal, she’d rather he not. The proposal to turn over Potter spilled out of her mouth like she was possessed. She could feel Nev’s glare from across the room as the word vomit spilled from her lips, but all she could think was that the castle was about to come down around their ears.

She ended up overseeing the evacuation of first through fifth years into Hogsmeade under the glaring eyes of her peers. She was the one who stood guard at the door of Three broomsticks and held her wand high when the death eaters came to the village and demanded any traitors be turned over. Slughorn had returned to the battle, and she was the highest authority left.

“We’re students of Hogwarts who chose not to fight. There are no traitors here, just children. Children who are doing as they are told. Step across this barrier and your face will match Carrow’s,” she declared lofting her wand. “I’m the headgirl and these children are under my protection. Keeping in mind that my uncle Lucius is providing a home to the Dark Lord, mine is a family you don’t wish to cross! If you value your head remaining attached to your neck, I would turn around and leave.”

When the aurors from the Ministry arrived, she only allowed them in after a small Hufflepuff girl claimed one of them as a father, proving they weren't imposters. From there, she retreated to the back of the room with the scared slytherin students. 

After the battle, just after sunrise, the knock came on the door to the pub. Many of the younger years were still sleeping, but Pansy, Daphne, Theo, Blaise, Tracey and the aurors were all still awake, holding the protection spells on the building. The Aurors went to the door, and Pansy wished they were less broad shouldered so she could see who it was. 

When they stepped aside, it was a battle worn Neville, blood smeared across his face, his hair burned off, his face and hands covered in bright red burns. He had never looked so handsome. She stumbled into his arms, covering his face in kisses.

“It’s over Pansy. He’s really gone,” his arms came around her as she sobbed into his neck. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive!”

“Of course,” he smiled, deciding it would be better not to tell her exactly how close things had come. 

“We need to get you to a healer, you’re covered in burns, this… Nev,” she looked at him with accusation in her eyes. “Come, we’ll go to Parkview. We’ll have access through the floo, and I’ll raid my father’s potion supply if he isn’t home to do it himself. Surely Pomphrey is overwhelmed.

“Merlin, I love you, you secretly sweet slytherin,” he laughed and she pushed him to the floo, grabbing a handful of powder.

“Of course you do. I’m really taking you here to kidnap you so you can never go off to fight dark wizards again,” she laughed pushing him into the fireplace. 

**************************

“If we get married, I won’t be able to call you my mistress any longer,” sighed Neville laying beside her in bed. He’d officially moved into the London townhouse as a ‘graduation’ gift from his gran. Pansy had been helping him get things settled all afternoon and after dinner, they’d made their way upstairs and fallen into bed.

“If we get married, you’ll have to propose first. Isn’t that how it works in the fairy tales. The lonely wizard falls for the beautiful witch, he proposes, they get married and they live happily ever after.”

“Sometimes she sends him on a quest for a dragon’s treasure first,” protested Neville.

“I’m fresh out of quests for you, gallant wizard,” laughed Pansy. “Why do gryffindors have to turn everything into a race against time and death?”

“Marry me, Pans. I know we did everything backwards, and I didn’t exactly treat you like you deserve from the first. But you’re the love of my life.”

“If you insist, Longbottom.”

“I insist. And then, let’s live happily ever after,” suggested Neville.

“Well that goes without saying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. I know it's rather fluffy. Please let me know what you thought. I really any feedback on my works! Keep an eye out for my other Pansy Nev stories I plan to post here.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, first post here on AO3. I plan to move a few of my other peices from ff.net over here as they are a bit of a collection. This should be a little more mature than most of my previous work. Hope you like it. Please let me know what you think.


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